


between a rock and a hard place

by mosiferatu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blowjobs, Doggy Style, F/M, Hair Pulling, Named Reader, POV Third Person, Pining, reader with glasses, slightly rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosiferatu/pseuds/mosiferatu
Summary: “You’ve been working hard. Do you want some water?” she asks, sliding a glass over to him, but her voice doesn’t quite sound as sincere as it ought. Probably because she’s daydreaming about what his abs look like under that tank top with her hands smoothing down them, as his hips jerk upward into her—“Yeah, thanks. You’re a life saver.”





	between a rock and a hard place

**Author's Note:**

> commission! if you want one, please message c:

Dia watches him, steely eyes full of cold calculation behind her glasses. He moves one way, and her eyes follow every twist and curve his body makes as he dances around the training room. He’s built like a wall, packed with muscle and overwhelming determination that easily makes her weak at the knees. He’s the kind of guy that has turned more than a few heads in his life time, and not just because he could take you down with one hit, either.

The light from Shiro’s arm catches her gaze as he severs the training dummy in half, and her heart flutters. Yeah, definitely not like any man she’s ever met. She’s had a few flings, but no one has ever had her working this hard for a quick fuck. No one has ever had an ass like Shiro’s, either, but that’s a different topic altogether.

With the training dummy now reduced to a glorified hot dog bun, Shiro rolls his shoulders in a circular motion, working the kinks from his neck. Sweat dribbles from his brow, but Dia offers him a towel when he sidles up to her table.

He accepts it graciously, tired lips pulling into a small smile, before he falls into the chair opposite her. He wreaks of sweat, and somewhere in the back of her head, Dia wonders if he would smell the same if only he were sweating for other reasons. Instead of pushing this thought away, she latches onto it.

“You’ve been working hard. Do you want some water?” she asks, sliding a glass over to him, but her voice doesn’t quite sound as sincere as it ought. Probably because she’s daydreaming about what his abs look like under that tank top with her hands smoothing down them, as his hips jerk upward into her—

“Yeah, thanks. You’re a life saver.”

Fuck, now the water isn’t the only thing that’s wet at the table.

His voice is husky from heavy breaths and nearly missed shots, drumming through the stagnant air of the training room. For moments after he speaks, his words linger, and Dia takes a shaky breath to calm herself. Shiro is the kind of man that makes her want to slough off her strategist skin and slip into a newer, more elegant model—one that accentuates all the femininity lying dormant within her.

“You’re always here when I need you. Always on top of things.”

The statement is meant as a joke, because she has been spending more than enough of her free time at his side, just waiting for an opening in which she can strike, but still, her skin bristles at the admonition. All she can think is I’d rather be on top of other things.

And it isn’t until the silence has sat in the room for much too long that she realizes she’s actually let this slip past her lips. The statement must have been bold too, laden with all the tension Shiro has built between them for weeks, not something she can pass off as a slip of the tongue, because the man in front of her nearly breaks the glass in his hand.

The stutters wrack him then, followed by the snake of embarrassment, wrapping itself around the entirety of his body. And she really does mean the entirety, because he is practically glowing. The sweat peaks at his brow again, but instead of wiping it, he guzzles down the rest of his water and all but slams the glass down on the table. Poor thing, it’s a wonder it’s still in one piece.

“Th..Thank you for the water, but I- I really have to go now.”

And just like that he’s gone, nothing but a cracked glass and a sweat stained towel to remember him by. Dia sighs, places her fingers under her glasses and squeezes the bridge of her nose.

“That could have gone better.”

But it isn’t the first time an interaction with Shiro has ended like this. Whether a testament to her will or just pure desperation, Dia has always been direct with what she wants (and Lord knows subtlety is lost on Shiro). She had planned to ease herself into the conversation of potentially taking her friend to bed, but she forgets herself when she wants something bad enough.

She sighs, plucks her forgotten book off the table, and turns to the last dog-eared page. Oh well. There are still many more opportunities for her to get what she wants, and Dia has all the time in the world. A smirk tugs across her painted lips, eyes glimmering.

She’ll just have to try again later.

[/]

The next time she encounters Shiro, he is seeking her out, which catches her by surprise. She is sitting in her room at her desk, absorbed in her newest book. The knock comes at her door, and without much thought she beckons the new comer to come in.

When she turns she is greeted with Shiro’s large frame, looking quite nervous and out of place. She catches the way his eyes scan her room, lingering briefly on a forgotten bra thrown haphazardly over a chair, before quickly darting back to her. If Dia wasn’t still reeling from the shock of Shiro voluntarily seeking her out, she would have laughed.

“Shiro, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She places her book to the side and stands from her desk, all smiles and fluttering eyelashes. As if debating his next move, Shiro hesitantly steps before her. A blush has already begun to creep up his neck. Oh, this will be good.

“Hey… I just wanted to talk. You know, about the other day.”

With all the poise of a crouching tiger, Dia leans back against her desk and smiles softly.

“Have you come to accept my proposition, then?”

Shiro shakes his head, looking bashful and horribly out of place. His shoulders are drawn tight, tighter than she’s ever seen them (and she has spent many, many hours observing every ridge and curve of his form).

“Not exactly, no.”

If Dia deflates, she doesn’t let it show. She straightens her spine, determined to remain the picture of collectivity in front of the object of her affection. He did come to her, after all… but now that she’s got him right where she wants him, she isn’t sure she’s ready to let him ago. She delicately pinches the edge of her glasses between her thumb and forefinger before gingerly lowering them down to her desk.

“Then what can I help you with?”

She bridges the distance between them, pressing her chest firmly against his, reveling in the feeling of Shiro’s heart racing. His fingers twitch, lips drawn tight in a disapproving frown. Dia swears she sees his eyes waver, roving over the swell of her chest, but she doesn’t press him, only smiles that knowing smile. Shiro’s lips part, prepared to speak his peace, but the words die with the press of Dia’s lips against his pulse. She laughs into his neck.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Her hands are feeling restless now, and she soothes her urge by trailing her hand down Shiro’s sculpted chest. She memorizes every dip and curve in the matter of seconds, commits them to a memory she won’t soon forget. Shiro doesn’t speak, but when her fingers move to the button of his pants, he stops her with a firm hand. His voice is stern despite the way his body quivers.

“I came to tell you that we can’t do this.”

He sounds angrier than he means to be, and he softens his grip around her hand when she retracts from him.

“Do you not want to?” she asks, and she knows that’ll be the end of it if he replies in the affirmative. She wants him, but she won’t force him—a game like this is only fun if both parties are willing.

“That’s not what I said.”

Shiro dips his head down, the fringe of his hair covering his eyes. If she had looked, Dia would have caught the uncertainty in his gaze just before he squeezed his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath, steadies himself. His hands are shaking, body fighting him with every syllable that leaves his lips next.

“But it doesn’t matter what I want, what we want. We’re in the middle of a war here. There’s more at stake than just how we feel.”

He releases her hand then, having said what he needed to say. The words don’t taste right on his tongue, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Putting himself first has never been his way. He expects his admission to be the end of this long winded game, but when his eyes lock with Dia’s, he feels like he’s been caught.

“Shiro,” she begins, and he doesn’t know what he expects but he is definitely not ready for the kiss that follows after. Her painted lips glide across his, and although he’s too stunned to respond, he can’t deny how much he enjoys the feeling. It has been a very, very long time since Shiro felt that.

“Sometimes,” she kisses him again, and suddenly her hands are back at the button on his pants. He feels her through the thin fabric, and the erection he’s been fighting to contain finally pushes past his iron will.

“We need to think about ourselves,” He doesn’t know when or how it happened, but the wall he’s built around himself begins to crumble when Dia slowly lowers herself to her knees. His buttons are quickly undone by her skillful hands, and he groans when she pulls him from his pants. Her hand is soft, ladylike, exactly how he imagined they’d be but—

“Or we’ll drive ourselves crazy.”

This is the last thing she says before she descends upon his cock, tongue poking through her painted lips to tease his tip. She glides her tongue up and over him, coating his cock in a layer of her saliva. Her breath is hot and oh so tempting, but he can’t let her do this. He grabs her shoulders, begs, “Dia, no,” but before he can protest she has taken him into her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat. The sound that leaves him is more of a sob than a groan.

She bobs her head along the length of his shaft, and Shiro is helpless to do anything but run his shaky hands through her hair, drawing her closer. She twists her tongue in just the right way, smoothing over his throbbing cock, milking every bit of precum from his tip.

“God, Dia—“

It’s been a long time since he’s had his dick sucked like this, and Dia is so good with her mouth, Shiro thinks he might nut then and there. The back of his mind is screaming at him to Stop this, you have bigger things to worry about, but when she fondles his testicles all reason flies out the window. Later, he’ll kick himself at how easily he gave in to their mutual desires, but for now, he’ll give her what she wants.

He tangles his hand in her hair, yanks her mouth off his cock. His stare is deadly, but it brings the heat pooling in Dia’s groin.

“You’re nothing but trouble,” he growls, and pulls her to her feet. His kiss is searing, bruising the delicate skin of her lips with the shear ferocity, but it makes her fucking melt. She grabs him by the collar, forces their bodies together, squirms at the feel of his metal hand grabbing her firmly by the ass. There is nothing gentle about the exchange, and Dia loves it.

They part only briefly to rid themselves of their clothes. When Shiro pulls his shirt over his head and Dia removes her bra, their eyes devour each other’s chests before the return to the rest of their clothes. When they’re both naked, Shiro gathers her up in his arms and throws her against her bed. The weight of their bodies has the mattress shaking, but it does nothing to dissuade them.

Shiro works his way between Dia’s legs and latches onto her breast, paying it just as much loving attention as she had done to his cock. He sucks hard, as he is prone to doing, and relishes the sight of purple blossoming upon her dark areola. He doesn’t say it, but paying her back for all her teasing really gets him hard.

His dick twitches, and he can’t believe he let her get him so riled up.

“I hope you’re ready, you’re finally getting what you wanted,” he growls and damn her, because she smiles that condescending smile again, the one she gets when she knows she’s won.

“I’m more than ready.”

She meets his disdainful look with one of pure excitement, wrapping her legs around his waist and forcing him onto his back with strength he didn’t know she possessed. She wastes no time in lining his cock up with her entrance—she’s more than wet, more than ready to finally have Shiro to herself—before sliding over him. She swallows him up to the hilt, and the two groan in unison as Shiro’s girth stretches her walls. It’s been a while for both of them, but Dia doesn’t let the slight pain stop her from planting her hands against Shiro’s chest and riding him like a fucking cowboy.

Shiro takes her ass into his hands, squeezes tightly as his face contorts with each thrust he makes into her dripping pussy. She’s not so tight anymore, but the feeling of ecstasy is the same. He angles himself upwards, thrusts in such a way that has her lips popping open as she cries for more. Her tits bounce, and he moves a hand to cup the one that he had abused with his mouth. He rolls his thumb over her nipple, squeezes it, and he doesn’t have to be told to know that she’s just come around him when she suddenly becomes boneless in his grip.

But Shiro isn’t done yet, and he flips her onto her stomach to finish himself. He slips inside her again, ravages her pussy, forcing himself to the hilt and back again until his mind becomes fuzzy and his orgasm begins to build. He’s almost there, and he groans his next words into Dia’s neck, “Can I come on your ass?”

Her voice is breathy, so faint he almost doesn’t catch her shaky “y-yes!” but he does, and he pulls himself from her sopping cunt just as he releases and spills over her backside. The cum is a bright contrast against her dark skin, and Shiro watches, breathless, as it pools above the swell of her ass and drips down her cheeks.

They’re both breathless and spent, but Shiro presses his head between Dia’s shoulder blades and lets out a laugh.

“Are you happy now? I can’t believe you actually got me to do that.”

Dia rolls onto her back, never mind the cum dripping from her ass, and places a well-manicured hand against his neck. His pulse jumps against her touch, but he lets himself lean into her palm. He’s gone this far, might as well go all the way. But Dia’s smirk has him uneasy under her critical gaze.

“I’ve been chasing you for weeks. I’m nowhere near satisfied.”

Oh, fuck.


End file.
